"You shaved." My guy - before he shaved. These were the words uttered by my sixteen-year-old to her father as she walked in the door from school a couple weeks ago. My husband caught my eye, smiled small and looked at Jill, "Yes, I did," he responded quietly, yet affirmatively. My stomach sank. A wave of guilt washed over me like cold water as I stared at his newly, and still so handsome, clean-shaven face. I felt awful. I'd spent all day with this man, we had lunch and went shopping. I'd even kissed him and yet I'd failed to see that his whiskers were gone and the scruff I used to feel rubbing against my cheek when we cuddled was noticeably absent. How could I have missed something so obvious? How could I fail to notice such a major change on the face of the most important person in my life this side of heaven? In short, I was so focused on myself, thinking on my own problems and issues, I'd become blind to anything else, including the lo